


Cakewalk

by beelivia



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Angst, Character Death, Fluff, Grief, Homophobia, Law review, M/M, Outing, Past Abuse, Podcast Host!Rafael, Politics, Sonny makes Macaroons sometimes, baker!Sonny, business owner!Sonny, but I promise it's worth it!!, ex-ADA!Rafael, intimacy issues, lots of sad backstory for everyone, the AU that's so far out of left field you'll cry, this is a mess, two characters overcoming their problems together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-06 03:10:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15185447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beelivia/pseuds/beelivia
Summary: Sonny runs “Carisi’s Sweetstop.” Rafael runs New York Barba. Somehow, they get caught up in each other’s lives.[Odd chapters Sonny, Even chapters Rafael]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is slow I'm sorry but bear with me! It gets interesting I promise

Monday morning at four thirty, Sonny unlocks the door of Carisi’s Sweetstop. He’s not fully awake yet, but he’s close from the brisk walk down the street between his apartment and work. It’s warm inside, thanks to a night without the expensive AC, but not hot enough to melt the candy or affect the fridges of dough, batter, cream, and soda. He keeps fudge in them too on particularly warm Summer days, but luckily it hasn’t come to that yet this year. He bumps the door shut with his hip and stumbles to the back to set his bag on the counter and fumble in the direction of the lightswitch inlaid on the back wall.

When he flicks on the light, warm yellow bathes the pictures behind the counter of all the owners in order above their aprons. He smiles to himself at Nonna’s picture on the wall as a young woman. She had been formidable even then, wearing a dark skirt, a plaid shirt, and a purple apron with “Carisi” on it in white cursive as she flexes and laughs at the camera. To the right of her is a picture of himself. Before it was his, it was his grandmother’s, and her mother’s before that, and her mother’s before that, back countless generations from the first Carisi to set foot on Staten Island. Although he had been working here since he was little and running it for a couple months before the photo, it was his first morning as the official owner. It’s not obvious in the print, but his cheeks were puffy and there were bags under his eyes from a sleepless night.

He picks up his green apron that Nonna made him when he turned sixteen. Ten years ago, she had seemed invincible. Its sturdy strings are woven into a knot against the small of his back, keeping it in place to protect his clothes while he bakes. It’s Monday, which means the daily treats are macarons, donuts, and in warm months, ice cream. Colder times bring hot chocolate instead, but not when the sun hasn’t risen and the temperature is already in the eighties. He made the donut batter already, and doesn’t need long to pour it into the pan before he starts on the macarons.

Before heading into the kitchen and pulling out all the ingredients, however, he pauses to pull out his phone and press play on _New York Barba_ , his favorite podcast. Although he never made it to law school, he still likes to read the law review journals and listen to the talk shows. Call him weird, but he loves _New York Barba_ for a multitude of things: the name (a pun on the bar association), the topics (every important or interesting verdict that week), the jokes (the host has a sarcastic sense of humor that rivals Sonny’s own), and the host himself (Rafael Barba). Rafael used to be an ADA, and every now and then he mentions some of his favorite techniques in court. One boring afternoon, he got it in his head to look up the man’s career and was astounded to find a high win rate, infamous attitude, and someone who wanted to change the world. He doesn’t understand why someone like that would just quit, but if Rafael ever gave an explanation, Sonny can’t find it. He always saves the shows, which come out during mass on Sunday morning, for background at the start of the work week.

“Welcome back to _New York Barba_ , this is Rafael on air. Before I get into the usual stuff, please tell me you’ve all been keeping up with politics lately.”

Sonny laughs a little himself as he cracks the eggs and separates out the yolks. The store fills with the sound of Rafael’s insults about the current administration and the policies being shown to the world. There’s passion in his voice, strong enough that it rings true in Sonny’s chest like an echo. It drips like honey over the egg whites that Sonny whisks hard and fast into the frothy mixture that macarons demand. His sister tried to get him an electric mixer once, but he refused. It’s Nonna’s way or not at all. The first batch takes a few minutes to whip up after he adds the rest of the ingredients and a few drops of food coloring and flavor to the cookie part. Most of the flavors he does use plain frosting, but he’ll add flavor to that too if he’s in a playful mood.

“So, on to the latest failures of the wonderful NYPD,” Rafael says, voice so venomous that Sonny can picture his green eyes darkening and a scowl staining his face as the donuts are pulled from the oven and dumped onto the cooling rack. Sonny starts the glaze while they reach an acceptable temperature for it. “My dear friend and the leading candidate for another term as mayor, Alex Muñoz, has the lovely men and women in blue in his back pocket. He appears to have bought his way out of the investigation of some extracurriculars with his teenage intern in a poli-sci class at PS 129. Look up the reports- they’re public record- and you’ll see that the girl’s mother filed a report of statutory but the precinct dismissed it. Two hours before it was dismissed, the precinct was given a grant from the mayor’s office for improved facilities. I can’t speak to exactly what happened, but I think it’s obvious.”

“You’d be a better candidate,” Sonny tells the empty room.

He pulls the glaze off of the stove top and tilts the saucepan over the first two dozen donuts, coating all of them with sweet-smelling glaze and preparing them for when the shop opens. It’s nearing five, giving him only half an hour before he has to open up. Already, early joggers are running past and peering inside only to catch sight of the ‘closed’ sign and carry on with their routes. They’ll come back, they always do. Sonny listens to the rest of the cast intently while he puts everything in its place and starts to churn this week’s ice cream flavors, vanilla bean, strawberry, and mint chip. He’s thought about investing in a machine, but it falls under the same rule as the electric mixer. Nonna did it by hand, so he’ll do the same.

The podcast ends at five twenty-seven, just in time for Sonny to silence his phone, wash his hands, and return to the front of the store with today’s fresh treats. He runs up to the door and flips the ‘CLOSED’ sign to open. There aren’t many people this early most of the time, but he likes getting to chat with other business owners and morning shift workers on their way in, as well as the harried mothers picking up treats for their kids before school. He recognizes and greets his regulars, preparing their orders when he sees them walk in, disturbing the old windchimes made from broken glass plucked by Nonna’s careful fingers off the beach.

At six fifteen, Amanda comes in. She owns the kickboxing studio next door and stops by at the beginning and end of the day, as well as whatever free moments she can find between classes. Her loose tee shirt gets caught on the door, making her loudly complain as Sonny chokes back a laugh and fetches her the usual blueberry muffin and cup of orange juice. For once, she isn’t running late, so she’s able to loiter at his counter while she munches through her breakfast.

“I’m assuming you heard Barba’s show?”

“Yeah. Really heavy on politics this time, not as much law,” Sonny replies, as if he wouldn’t listen to Rafael rambling on for hours about the methods of tying ties. “Makes sense though, election season is coming up.”

Amanda wipes her mouth with the back of her hand to erase a smear of blueberry. “What’s your take on Muñoz?”

“Never liked him anyways.”

She gives him a knowing smile but doesn’t say anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't respond to the comments bc AO3 is,, Like That but I see them and tysm for your kind words <3

“What you did was stupid, Rafa.”

“Good morning to you too,” Rafael grumbles, taking the cup of coffee that Olivia offers him when he walks into the office the morning after his controversial show. “I know I said I wouldn’t talk about Muñoz but I had to. I’m sick at the thought of him in office  _ again _ .”

She fixes him with an annoyed look and gestures toward the boss, Cragen’s office. Normally, Rafael gets a lot of freedom in what he says and does, but it may have crossed a line to use his influence to comment on the election. Back in the days where he worked for the city, prosecuting sex crimes, he made a living out of destroying predators like his former best friend. In childhood they had been thick as thieves, split apart by differences in ambition. Muñoz wanted to help everyone else. At the time, Rafael wanted to help his family without care for others in the projects. He did what he had to, taking care of his mother and grandmother for as long as he could. Now they’re estranged from him and gone respectively. Going toe to toe with someone like Muñoz is not without its dangers.

Rafael fixes his suit outside Cragen’s office, readying himself to present his defense once Olivia leads him inside. He does feel a little bad for her, given that she takes more blowback than he does as the official manager of  _ New York Barba _ . Cragen sits imposing behind his desk. He’s a large man stuffed into a light colored suit and an old tie who looks like a hardass but in reality has a huge heart. Looking pointedly past him at the skyline, he wonders how he’ll find another job if he loses this one because of his lack of filter. After everything he’s seen and done and gone through, it just wasn’t an option to hold his silence.

“You know why you’re in here, Barba,” Cragen says.

“Yes sir, I do. I understand if you-”

Cragen holds up a hand to silence him. “I stand by what you said. But the Muñoz campaign reached out this morning to sue for libel.”

The thought makes Rafael laugh. For it to be defamation, it has to be untrue. Everything he puts out there is fact. There’s a reason his shows are weekly; he spends six days out of seven researching and vetting and planning to make sure that he’s accurate. Since his early days doing this, he’s grown into a nationwide voice with over a million listeners. Any failure would destroy his career and his reputation. Now that people all around the country are calling for further investigation, it looks like maybe Muñoz won’t get the office that would give him the foothold he needs to run for governor or congress. Even if they can’t get him convicted or even arrested, it’ll hopefully damage his reputation enough.

“It’s not libel if it’s true,”  Olivia chimes in.

“Exactly,” Cragen says. “But the point is that they’re gunning for you, Barba, so you need to be careful.”

“I’ve seen the worst he has.”

As dismissive as his tone is, Rafael is at the point where he has nothing left to lose. Muñoz already took away his mother, and Olivia, his only friend, knows the truth about the kind of man he is. So if he has to be the one to bite the metaphorical bullet, he’ll do it. Rafael stopped existing as a person a long time ago. Now he’s more of a figure, a voice to the side of the government that people don’t care about or see. Someone has to be the alarm bell.

“I’m not so sure. Just be careful. And run an update on the situation this week, keep people informed.”

Nodding, he bids Cragen goodbye and follows Olivia out. It seems the boss is on his side for this one, but he has very powerful enemies once again. What else is new? 

His own office down the hall is less grandiose but much more comfortable and to his own tastes. Bookshelves line the walls, packed with novels and reviews and case law and everything in his private collection that he doesn’t have room for in his home. Behind his desk are the windows, curtains drawn in because if he’s pacing in thought, the vision of the world outside makes him dizzy and he has to sit down for a few minutes. Nothing ruins a train of thought like that. 

Notes are already scattered over his desk for this week’s show, none of them researched, but all considered. An update on Muñoz is a must. The supreme court is supposed to return a verdict this week, so he can talk about that or its lack of published existence as well. And Trevor’s trial is coming up soon, so he can always go sit in on that and report about it. It is a big one. Then again, he doubts he’d be able to sit there and remain composed in the face of someone who used to be his everything but wound up damaging him beyond repair.

He sits down and opens his computer to start putting some of the better ideas into a document to do some basic research on them and send his team to vet sources and get him any extra information he needs. If all goes well, he’ll be sitting down to write a script by Wednesday afternoon. Muñoz just gets a starred bullet point and nothing else yet. As he types and works, it gets easy to lose himself in the familiar rhythm of work. Olivia would tell him to get up and take a break every now and then, but he refuses to break a productive streak when it finally graces him in the listlessness of working in an office. At some point an intern brings him coffee which must be from the cart outside instead of the breakroom because it’s actually good. Exactly as he likes it too, sweet enough to knock over a horse but no cream. The day he cuts perfectly good coffee with creamer is the day he collapses on the floor dead. 

Olivia knocks on his door uselessly as she opens it. “Rafa?”

“Busy,” he replies.

“It’s 12:30. C’mon, I’m taking you to get something to eat.”

“I’m busy.”

Somehow she crosses the room without his notice and pulls his laptop away from the reach of his arms. Sighing, he acquiesces if only to get the chance to save his work before she slams his computer shut hard enough to make him wince. The second he does so, she sets it down and beckons for him to follow after her.

“Where’re we going today?” Rafael asks.

“There’s this place my friend Amanda has been telling me to try,” she says, pausing to nod at her assistant, “that’s apparently next to her studio. ‘Carisi’s’ or something like that. All junk food, right up your alley.”

There’s more than she lets on, he can hear it in her tone. Being a lawyer once upon a time has its perks. “And?”

“The guy who owns it is really sweet and definitely your type-”

“I’ll check out the food. But that’s it.”

She rolls her eyes and continues to lead Rafael down and out of the building. An uber is waiting, so she must have planned on being able to get him outside. They both get in and she recites an unfamiliar address that must be that of the place she’s taking him. Olivia pulls out her phone quickly to text who can only be Amanda. Ever since a run-in of her own with unsavory people, she started taking kickboxing lessons, falling hard and fast in love with the owner and instructor, a petite young woman named Amanda Rollins. Rafael knows more about her than he needs to thanks to Olivia’s gushing, but he’s glad she’s found someone who makes her happy. If anyone deserves that, it’s her.

Hoping to prevent himself from a dangerous line of thinking, Rafael distracts himself on his phone the entire drive, only pocketing it when they pull up in front of a small storefront with a faded blue awning. Proud cursive proclaims it to be “Carisi’s Sweetstop,” and standing outside of it, Rafael gets the uncanny feeling that something life changing is about to happen. He scoffs to himself and brushes the idea away before pushing open the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Halfway through the lunch hour, Sonny runs out of chocolate chip cookies, his most popular daily treat, and he doesn’t notice until Amanda asks for one and he brushes the empty tray. It’s been a fairly slow day, giving him the opportunity to get some reading done and try to avoid thinking about the lingering sadness that clings in the cracks of the floorboards. No matter how much time has passed, it still hits him hard too often. Amanda’s on her own lunch break, luckily, and doesn’t mind waiting around while he cooks up a fresh batch.

“I’ll watch the store,” she says, waving him into the back and grabbing a seat on his stool behind the counter with her soda.

He thanks her and disappears. There’s still dough in the fridge, since he likes to prepare it after closing the night before in order to let it rest and thicken up to lose less butter while it bakes. Thick cookies are good cookies, after all. Content with Amanda in charge, he turns on the oven and greases the baking sheet to put down the cookies on and bake, after quickly washing his hands in the sink. How he didn’t realize, he isn’t sure, but then again he’s been easily distractible lately. It’s like his brain, his attention, is being constantly pulled in all different directions and it’s overwhelming him. He’s always wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t taken over the sweetstop, but now more than ever it’s come to mind. What would his life be like if he had taken his scholarship and gone to Harvard? Imagining himself as a lawyer is hard, but Nana always did say he was good at arguing. And he’s been intrigued by law ever since he was a little boy, sitting on the kitchen counter while Nana patched up his scraped knees and asking her if the culprits would ever get in trouble. Every time he went to the office about it at school, they would tell him to man up. As soon as he told her about that, though, she marched down herself and demanded punishment. No one can ever be as scary as Nonna was when she was angry.

After he puts the cookies in, Sonny leans against the counter and resists the urge to run a hand through his gel sticky hair. It’s getting messy by this point in the day anyways, but he can hopefully make it last through the next few hours of work. Maybe he should hire a part-time worker at some point, but he doesn’t trust anyone else to take care of the sweetstop. 

From the main entrance, he hears the windchimes go off to signify the door opening. Amanda’s voice greets them in an accent a little thicker than normal. “Liv, nice to see you again. This must be Rafael?” The customer responds too quietly for Sonny to hear. He doesn’t pay much attention, since Amanda knows how to ring up cash if the customers can’t wait for Sonny to finish up in the kitchen. He’s preparing a second tray of cookies when Amanda calls, “Sonny, you might wanna come out here.”

“Give me a few, I’m lining up the next sheet-”

“Now.”

He rolls his eyes and wipes the flour off his hands onto his apron before pasting on his customer service smile, patented from his teenage years. If Amanda needs him immediately, they’re probably pricks. When he walks out into the main area prepared to greet them, his voice stops in his throat. Amanda is smiling at a woman with brunette hair loose around her face who must be Liv, but that’s not who Sonny gets distracted by. Beside her is  _ the _ Rafael Barba, examining a brick of fudge wrapped in foil. Only when Amanda elbows him does he manage to speak. 

“Hi, I’m Sonny, can I help you with anything today?”

“I’m Olivia and this is Rafael. We’re new, what do you recommend?” Olivia asks.

At the same time, Rafael asks, “Do you have coffee?”

Sonny isn’t sure who to answer first so he clears his throat and goes behind the counter. Amanda swaps with him and stands beside Olivia, a little too close for friendship. “Yes, I serve coffee. Normal and Decaf. I’d definitely recommend my cookies, but we’re out right now. I’ll have a batch fresh out of the oven in a few minutes, if you want to wait. Um, the guy I buy my fudge from, Peter, is pretty talented so all of that is great. And the chocolate-orange macarons are really good today.”

“If Peter makes the fudge, who makes the rest?”

The questions rubs Sonny the wrong way, but he ignores it because it was asked by Rafael  _ fucking _ Barba, who’s literally standing in the sweetstop right now. He’s surprised his heartbeat isn’t audible.

“I do. The recipes go back in family for generations, but I change up the flavors.”

Rafael nods and puts back down the fudge in his hand to look up at Sonny properly. His eyes are much greener in person, Sonny’s brain supplies rather unhelpfully, and the little half-smile on his face is going to be the death of him. Of all the photos he’s seen, he doesn’t think Rafael was smiling in a single one of them. That’s a shame, really. 

“...and two raspberry macarons, how much would it be?”

“I’m sorry, what?” he asks, suddenly realizing he didn’t hear anything Rafael said to him.

“Distracted?” Rafael’s eyes are bright with barely contained laughter. “How much would a coffee, a chocolate chip cookie, two chocolate-orange, two vanilla, and two raspberry macarons cost?”

Running the total in his head, Sonny answers back, “Eleven seventy-two, including tax. How do you take your coffee?”

“So you’re smart, I’m impressed. Black with lots of sweetener.”

“ _ Rafael _ -” Olivia starts to reprimand, but Sonny isn’t paying attention to her. He just keeps repeating that Rafael is impressed over and over again in his head. “-sorry, Sonny. Can I get a donut and one of your cream sodas?”

He nods and starts pulling out their food orders to bag up so that Rafael’s coffee is still hot when he pours it out of the pot and into the paper cups. As he does, Amanda takes Olivia over to the cooler to get her soda, leaving him alone with Rafael, who leans on the counter and looks up at him through his eyelashes. Is he flirting? Is that what this is? Should Sonny say something? He silently panics as he picks up the macarons with the tongs and slides them into a little white paper bag separate from the cookie.

“How long’ve you worked here?”

“About- about eight years,” Sonny answers. “I took over for my Nonna.”

“Where is she now?”

Although Rafael couldn’t have known, Sonny still pauses to blink back tears and sniffles before he gets back to work. “She’s um, she’s gone. And this place is… you know what, you don’t need to hear about that. You’re Rafael Barba, right? From  _ New York Barba _ ?

Rafael groans before answering, “Yeah. Let me guess, you’re upset about what I said about Muñoz on yesterday’s broadcast.”

“No, actually. I’m a big fan, I think you make a lot of good points and you have an interesting view on the government today.”

“What’s your take on the supreme court’s decision on _ Masterpiece Cakeshop v Colorado Civil Rights Commission? _ ”

Sonny knows that it’s a test, especially given that Rafael had his own very firm opinion on it when he did a show specifically about the verdict a month and a half ago. “I think you’re right that it opens the door for more discrimination based on sexual orientation, but the court ruled according to the law. It’s the same as that time you tried to try a gay man for a hate crime and you got deadlocked. If you target all lesbians, it’s a hate crime. If you target lesbians with freckles, it’s a pattern. The same applies to the baker. He doesn’t deny all same-sex orders, just same-sex wedding cakes. It’s disgusting but not technically discrimination under the letter of the law.”

“So you have a backbone too,” Rafael muses. “And you do your research. But he did deny their order specifically because it was a gay wedding. He doesn’t refuse straight weddings.”

“But he would serve them for other occasions. Again, despite the fact that he’s morally wrong, it’s within his rights.”

“Would it be within his rights to protest a gay wedding?”

The mere thought makes him wrinkle his nose. “If he doesn’t disturb the peace or assault anyone, then technically yes. Think I’d clock him in the face for interrupting my wedding though.”

“Funny, I didn’t mention it being your wedding.”

If Sonny didn’t already know that Rafael isn’t homophobic, he’d still feel like shit about this. No matter how old he gets, coming out is scary, and his heart is in his throat when he turns around to make Rafael’s coffee.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I've been dealing with some stuff in my personal life. On the bright(?) side I might be going on medication soon, so hopefully that'll help me with my issues. Thank y'all for sticking with me and I'll try to update a little more regularly now.

Calling out Sonny’s words may not have been the best option. He looks so uncomfortable now, awkwardly fixing the coffee Rafael bought and pointedly not looking at him. The feeling is one he’s familiar with, accidentally saying the wrong words before he’s ready to come out. Despite his reservations when he found out this was a setup, there’s something endearing about this gangly blond baker with a Staten Island accent layered thick over his voice. He’s adorable, rocking on the balls of his feet while he makes Rafael’s coffee. When he turns back around to give it to Rafael, his cheeks are warm and eyes averted.

“I am too, you know,” Rafael blurts out in effort to calm Sonny down. “Gay.”

That seems to relax him some, at least enough for him to look at Rafael again. “I’m bi. Sexual. Well, I’m not like, sexual, I’m bisexual, in like a, like boys and girls way-”

“Sonny.” Sonny falls silent and bites his lip. Christ, he’s too cute for his own good. “Relax.”

“Right, sorry.”

He rings up the items and reads off a total, $10.76. “That’s less than you said earlier,” Rafael points out. 

“Coffee’s on the house for you.”

Rafael smiles at him thankfully, trying to decide of he’s being flirted with. No one’s flirted with him since Trevor. Whether he wants it or not, he knows better than to succumb by now. Sonny seems harmless and sweet, but so did Trevor. So did Muñoz once upon a time. It doesn’t matter what someone appears like on the outside because deep down inside, most if not all people turn out to be monsters. It’s just a matter of when the other shoe drops. Still, Rafael gets drawn into Sonny’s innocent blue eyes and eager grin, even when he steps to the side to let Liv check out with Amanda practically hanging off of her. It seems the crush isn’t unrequited. The entire time though, he watches Sonny, who sends back smiles of his own frequently. Then, he excuses himself briefly to pull cookies out of the oven, which must be why it smells so good in here. He reappears a couple minutes later  with a bag containing two fresh cookies and a sunny smile. Rafael wrestles with the part of him that wants to ask Sonny out, all the way from the thanking him at the counter to the door. As he’s opening it, he hears his name and stops.

“Are you covering the Langan trial? It’s huge.”

He has to remind himself that Sonny doesn’t know, couldn’t know. “I might. Bring me a pen.”

In seconds Sonny is in front of him, holding out one of the cheap plastic ones that come in packs of 200 at the dollar store. He takes Sonny’s arm and writes his phone number in his neat handwriting like the all-caps font on his work computer that his assistant found for him because it’s easier to read. Even before his life was spent mostly working off his computer, he had a hard time reading things in the tight font everything seems to use nowadays. Once he returns the pen and Sonny realizes what he’s written, his face lights up like a little kid on Christmas. He’s making it hard for Rafael to keep himself from being too forward too quickly.

“Have a good day,” Sonny says hopefully as he walks out the door.

That leaves Rafael to third wheel with the girls, but not for long because Olivia says goodbye to Amanda and watches her flounce back to the studio next door where he remembers hearing she worked. This is worse, he realizes. Now he’s going to be asked what he thinks of Sonny and told he should ask him on a date and put himself back out there. For the first time in almost a year, he’s really tempted.

“So, you gave him your number?”

“He’s cute, I’ll admit, but I don’t know if now is a good time.”

She fixes him with a look like she knows he’s just making excuses, but there is some truth to his words. Things are about to go from bad to worse and dragging someone he’s just met through it is the epitome of a bad decision. Sonny couldn’t last a second in the world Rafael lives in, and he would never ask him to, even if he wasn’t someone he’s just met today. Giving him his number was overstepping but some part of himself doesn’t regret it.

“You deserve to be happy.”

He doesn’t answer her as they take another Uber back to the office. The coffee is complete shit, stale and nowhere near strong enough, but when Rafael digs into the food he bought it’s the best he’s ever tasted. The cookie has an undertone of some spice, and it melts in his mouth. The macarons are expertly made despite how hard they are to master, and the flavor combinations perfect. Sonny has a real talent. Now he knows that he’ll be returning, which will make this weird warm feeling in his chest worse.

Back at work, he and Liv go their separate ways so he can get the rest of the day’s work done in peace. Admitting that she was right about Sonny being his type would be too painful, even if she already knows the truth. His office is exactly as he left it when he sits down and opens his laptop. The only difference is the little red badge icon on the tab with his work email. Before he even switches to check it, he knows that whatever it says won’t be good. He can’t just leave it, though. Deep breath. Whatever it is, he’ll be fine.

_ Bzzt bzzt. _

His phone goes off and he pauses from his fear to check it. A number he doesn’t recognize has introduced itself as Sonny Carisi followed by a smiley face that shouldn’t be as endearing as it is and a question of if he has the right number. Rafael can’t help answering back affirmingly and saving Sonny’s contact. Complimenting the food he had a chance to taste is a compulsion as well, followed closely by a snide comment about the coffee.

Putting off opening the email won’t make it go away.

While he waits for an answer, he puts his phone down and holds his breath. With a single click, he’s staring at Muñoz’s email at the top of his inbox without a subject line. It takes all of the courage in his body to open it and read the single line that on it’s own, isn’t dangerous. He knows. Muñoz knows about Trevor. Of course he does, how could he not when he always has his ear to the ground and the whole city kissing his well polished black dress shoes? The threat is obvious. Muñoz doesn’t understand what it’s like, will never know the pain and the apprehension and the exact pain of being forced into the open before it’s time.

He forces himself to close out of the tab so that he doesn’t have to keep seeing the greasy smile those words imply. There’s more important work to be done than dwelling over the trial he knows he’ll have to cover at some point despite his personal protests and the fear he might spill knowledge that has yet to become public. It’s a dangerous line to toe, one he would prefer not to go anywhere near. Still, as a journalist, he has his obligations regardless of bias.

Then his phone goes off again with a comment from Sonny about how he knew Rafael would enjoy the food and asking if he’d come back sometime and show him what he’s doing wrong with the coffee. It’s not a date, not explicitly, and the underlying flirty tone don’t change that. Rafael’s heart leaps into his throat anyways and he nearly drops his phone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all your well-wishes!!
> 
> and check out my tumblr for the compilations + commission info y'all (@space-carisi)

Rafael is just as sarcastic and witty over text as he is in person and on air. The fact that he’s not secretly an asshole like most celebrities are makes Sonny smile and does nothing to help the little crush he’s been developing on the man since he first started listening in to his shows. Most of his messages are intermittent until around five, when he gets off of work and starts answering Sonny back rather quickly. Every moment not spent on the customers goes toward texting Rafael, all the way up until he closes the shop at eight. Then, he’s free to fully invest between preparing cookie and bread dough for tomorrow.

**_Rafael:_ ** _ I hope you know I’m coming back _

**_Rafael:_ ** _ Like every single day _

**_Sonny:_ ** _ you say that like its a threat _

**_Rafael:_ ** _ You’ll hate me after a while _

**_Sonny:_ ** _ impossible _

He smiles at his phone before setting it down and getting back to kneading the dough. Nonna always told him to take out all his negativity on it, punch it and beat it. He’s never had a problem with that before. But today, something is different. Sonny kneads it with as much strength as he always does, and yet the motion feels more fluid, more like rolling it than pounding it into the flour all over the countertop. By the time he’s done with it, he has this light feeling in his chest that he can’t even begin to describe. He drops the dough into a bowl and covers it with a towel to leave until the next morning, completing his work for the night. Tuesdays are cannolis and cinnamon bread, which means that Amanda will buy out his whole stock. She’ll be by before work, on her lunch break, and after she locks up. She closes at nine, but Sonny is usually still around when she locks up and she helps him sometimes. The sweetstop is a lot of work, much more than he thought it would be when he was younger.

On his way home, still texting Rafael, Sonny wonders if maybe he can finally allow himself to have something in his life other than work. He’s been talking to Rafael for less than a day, but he has a really good feeling that lingers all night, and remains when he wakes up the next morning for another day of work. For the first time, getting out of bed isn’t a seemingly insurmountable chore. He has something to look forward to, something to break up the monotony of his days.

When he gets into the store, he puts in the bread dough and starts on the cannolis as soon as possible. They’re time-consuming, but best fresh as opposed to a day or two old, which is why he comes into the store half an hour early to give the dough time to rest before being rolled out. These are his favorite to make, familiar from childhood summers spent piping filling into the fried shells and dusting powdered sugar over the top from a sieve bigger than his head. For a long time, they’ve held a special place in his heart. And they always will, he thinks to himself as he folds in the wine. The filling is going to be basic this week, plain and cherry, but good as always. Better simple and good than complex and bad, right?

**_Rafael:_ ** _ What time do you open? _

**_Sonny:_ ** _ 530 _

**_Rafael:_ ** _ Gross. How are you awake at 4 am? _

**_Sonny:_ ** _ you realize youre awake too _

**_Rafael:_ ** _ Long night and I’m in the neighborhood. _

**_Rafael:_ ** _ Thought I’d come by when you open. _

**_Sonny:_ ** _ im already at work you can come now if you want _

**_Rafael:_ ** _ Is the coffee on? _

At Sonny’s affirmation, Rafael says he’ll arrive in a couple minutes. Maybe by the time he comes in, the bread will be done and he can give him a taste of it fresh out of the oven. There’s nothing as good as fresh bread. In the meanwhile, Sonny pulls out all of the sweeteners and creamers with the idea of getting Rafael to show him how to make better coffee as he said he would yesterday. Normally the very thought of being expected to change something around here is daunting, but for once he finds that he doesn’t mind. If something can be improved, and the person helping him is  _ the _ Rafael Barba, why shouldn’t he change it? The world won’t end because he serves better coffee. 

A few minutes later, Rafael walks in with a decidedly exhausted expression that gives Sonny the urge to pull him into a hug and tuck him into bed for a good night’s sleep. Instead of doing either of those things, he instead greets Rafael happily and beckons him back into the kitchen where the bread is just about ready to come out of the oven. The washed glaze on top for shine catches the light nicely when Sonny pulls it out to slowly cool on the counter.

“Did you have breakfast?” Sonny asks, already starting to slice the loaf for display.

“No, I…” Rafael interrupts himself with a yawn that’s actually kind of cute. “...sorry, no, I haven’t.”

Blasphemy. He has fond memories of Nonna taking care of him and his sisters, making meals for them and taking care of them when his father got too overwhelmed. Sometimes, when she thought no one was listening, she’d curse out Sonny’s mother for abandoning her entire family without so much as a trace left behind. He remembers vividly the day he sat at the bench in the park waiting for his mother to come back when she said that she was just going to go grab something to eat from one of the vendors. He sat there from the time she left him in the morning to not long after the sunset, when he finally got found by a beat cop in a starched uniform with kind eyes. The only thing he choked out between his sobs was that his mommy abandoned him.

It took a couple of hours in the police station before he managed to explain that he wanted to go see Nonna at the Carisi sweetstop, ever wary of giving out his name to strangers like his parents always told him not to. The door had clanged open with the entry bell, making Nonna call from the back that they were closed. When she heard Sonny’s small voice, however, she had come out and swept him into her arms. She told the police, told Sonny’s father, not to bother looking for his mother because she has a mind of her own when she decides to disappear on them all. The worst part is that she was right; no matter how hard Sonny’s father looked, they never heard from his mother again.

He shakes his head to clear away the negative thoughts. This is a happy moment, or at least a neutral one. “Grab a seat, I’ll get you some coffee and food.”

Rafael raises his eyebrows. “Where?”

Right. Sonny clears a space on the counter and gestures lazily for Rafael to sit. He can always wipe it down later. He turns away just long enough to pour coffee, and when he turns back around, his mouth dries up. Rafael has a comfortable perch on the counter, unbuttoning the crisp collar of his salmon shirt and loosening his tie. That’s not fair, he thinks, because he suddenly doesn’t know how to form sentences. 

He hands Rafael the coffee and then a slice of his cinnamon bread. It’s nothing substantial, but this is a sweetstop after all. Sonny grabs a slice for himself and leans against the fridge opposite Rafael’s seat in an effort to seem calmer than he is. His heartbeat is pounding so loudly he thinks Rafael can hear it. There’s an urge to say or do something other than awkwardly stand there with his breakfast.

Finally, he blurts out, “Can I take you to dinner tonight? If you’re, you know, not busy, and um, no pressure, or anything, but if you want to, I’d love to take you out and-”

“Breathe, Sonny,” Rafael says with the slightest hint of a smile. “I’d love to.”

Sonny’s so excited and elated that it doesn’t even occur to him that Rafael is the first person to come to the kitchens at the sweetstop since his Nonna passed away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some more on Rafael's backstory, enjoy

Rafael agrees to going on a date despite how afraid he is of what’s going to happen. Dates can turn to sex, or worse, relationships. He’d like to think he’s learned his lesson on that, but here he is again, agreeing to a date with this adorable baker who got moon-eyed over his podcast. He’s already crushing on him, which doesn’t help. Sonny’s just so nice, and he’s giving Rafael breakfast, and he looks at him like he put the stars in the sky.  _ Trevor used to look at you like that too, _ his brain supplies helpfully. 

“Dinner,” he says, “when and where? I get off work around five.”

“I can come pick you up then, take you to this nice Italian place on eighth?” Sonny says hopefully.

Instead of accepting like a normal person, he pauses and thinks it through. Sonny would know the address where he works, and he’d be in Sonny’s car, and he knows too well that all doors can be locked from the driver’s side. Rafael can’t tell if he’s being reasonably cautious or overly paranoid. Sonny doesn’t look like a threat but that doesn’t mean he isn’t one. And when Rafael looks down at the food in his hand, he realizes that it would have been real easy to drug him right now. Sonny didn’t, wouldn’t, but that doesn’t erase his fear built from past experiences and thick self-preservation. 

“Make reservations for six and text me the address.”

Sonny nods enthusiastically and now he’s smiling, something that makes Rafael’s heart flutter in ways he never asked for. He’s cute, and that’s a problem that Rafael doesn’t know how to handle in the slightest. Bowing his head, Rafael sips from his coffee to find it just as terrible as last time. That’s something he can focus on that won’t send him spiraling with anxiety.

“Show me where you brew your coffee, I’m gonna show you how to do it right,” he says, hopping off the counter. Sonny laughs a little and waves him over to the ancient machine that must be a coffee maker.

Rafael lingers for a while until opening, teaching Sonny how to make better coffee and helping him bake for the day before he realizes that he has to go into work. He almost kisses Sonny goodbye, but stops himself because he knows better. Especially after waking up at three in the morning and going for a walk because he couldn’t go back to sleep. Trevor’s trial is right around the corner, and so is Muñoz’s shot at winning the election. This date doesn’t ease his stress, but he wants to do it more than he expected too. Sonny’s… soft. Cute. Smarter than he lets on. The perfect trap, if someone was using him to hurt Rafael. No, he can’t think about that. For once, he needs to just enjoy something good.

He gets back to the office and settles right into his desk to see what progress has been made on the Muñoz investigation. Not a lot, but it’s a start, and his public opinion is dropping more and more. No doubt that makes him angrier. And, according to the sticky note Olivia left him, the trial is first thing in the morning tomorrow, having been pushed up for some reason. His choice whether or not he’s going to go or even report on it at all. If he isn’t sure, he can probably send one of his junior investigators to sit around and do the research in case Rafael decides to report on it. 

As he’s sitting there, thinking, his phone rings with a blocked number. Before he picks it up, he knows what he’s about to hear. “Hello?”

“Mr. Barba,” says a heavily filtered voice, “dating again already?”

“Who is this? Are you following me?”

“It doesn’t matter. You should watch your back and your mouth, Mr. Barba. Wouldn’t want your stellar reputation tarnished.”

The person on the other end hangs up before he can get another word in. That’s a much clearer threat than the one Muñoz left him yesterday. Can he justifiably drag Sonny into this mess? He doesn’t want to get him caught up in the crossfire. Rafael takes a deep breath with the phone still in his hand before he puts it down and starts doing actual work again.

Somehow, he makes it through the day and all the way home to change into a fresh suit, then arrives at the restaurant on the dot of six. His heart leaps into his throat as he approaches the storefront. It didn’t even occur to him that Sonny might stand him up. Wouldn’t that hurt worst of all? Rafael wipes his palms down his slacks. When he goes inside, he might not see Sonny. He’s torn between if that’s better or worse than seeing him. 

He takes a deep breath and walks in.

The lighting is warm and dim, giving the restaurant an intimate feel led on by the candles on every white clothed table with wine glasses at the ready. The waitstaff are all dressed in crisp black and green, looking more like mannequins or models than real people. He scans the poorly lit seating area until he sees Sonny sitting there, texting with one hand and holding a bouquet of roses with the other. Rafael’s heart melts. Trevor had brought him lilies on their first date, he thinks.

“Sonny,” he says quietly.

Sonny looks away from his phone and his face lights up. “Rafael, I was- hi. I brought you flowers.”

He holds them out a bit awkwardly, like he hasn’t done this in a long time if at all. It’s charming, in a way. Rafael give him a smile he hopes is reassuring and accepts the gift, smelling the petals and allowing some of the tension to melt from his shoulders. It doesn’t startle him for once when Sonny sets a gentle hand on the small of his back and leads him up to the hostess so they can get seated. Every couple of seconds, Sonny glances at Rafael out of the corner of his eye and he’s still smiling. Does his face ever get tired of it?

The table they’re led to in the back is private, but still has a view of the exits, like Sonny knew exactly what Rafael would be afraid of. With a strange knowing grin that makes the hairs on the back his neck stand up, the hostess gives them menus with fancy curling script on them and informs them that their waiter will be by with water and wine shortly.

“Did she give off weird vibes to you?” 

Rafael looks up at Sonny’s uncertain face. Muñoz. It has to be. “A little, but I’m sure it’s nothing. ‘Ve you eaten here before?”

Sonny nods and starts recommending things, filling the silence so Rafael doesn’t have to worry. He tries not to think about it, but it doesn’t work well until the (thankfully normal) waiter comes to serve them drinks and take their orders. Rafael decides on the first thing Sonny talked about with a name that his tongue stumbles on because he’s used to Spanish, not Italian. When Sonny steps in and orders for him, flushing pink when he realizes what he’s done, Rafael has the urge to do something really stupid like lean over the table and kiss him. He ignores it and takes a deep breath, straightens his tie, and takes a sip of wine. Rich, a little sweet, definitely expensive. Sonny better not be expecting to pay for this on his own; being the sole employee of a small sweetstop can’t be the most profitable job out there.

“Your tie is crooked,” Rafael says suddenly, finally finding something else to focus on. “C’mere.”

He loops his fingers in Sonny’s tie and pulls him half over the table to straighten and tighten it, pretending not to realize how close their faces are now, or the way Sonny’s lips part slightly and his cheeks flush again. He blushes easily, Rafael notes. And Christ, he wants to kiss him. He shouldn’t, but he really wants to. Instead, however, he lets Sonny’s tie slip from his hand and leans back to sip more of his wine.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and all future chapters were beta'd by my awesome friend @rafaelscarisi on tumblr!

Dinner goes surprisingly well, considering how Sonny manages to stutter and bumble his way through every single thing he says, and Rafael is still endlessly charming. Over dessert, they wind up in a discussion about the probable vs just outcome of a new case headed to the supreme court soon. It feels strange, but not unpleasant to finally have someone to talk legal opinions with. Amanda is his only real friend, and a lot of it goes over her head. Nonna used to try, but she was always better with emotions than she was the black and white views most have about the judicial system. There’s always a grey area, according to her, and anyone who claimed existence on either extreme of the spectrum were liars. She had a lot to say about a lot of things, but Sonny remembers that the most.

After he pays the tab, declining Rafael’s offer to split it, Sonny offers to take Rafael home. He had seen the Uber bringing him to and from the sweetstop when they first met, and picking him up this morning. 

“You’re not sick of me?” Rafael jokes, but his voice has an underlying current of genuine uncertainty.

“Five bucks says you get sick of me first,” Sonny replies.

That makes both of them laugh a little as they get in the car. When the engine starts, so does the radio with its quiet rendition of a static-garbled country song. It’s hard to tell which one, but it feels like a scene out of a romance novel where someone says something deep and they lean over the center console to kiss. As Sonny follows Rafael’s directions, he can’t help glancing over at him occasionally and wondering if he feels the same warm happiness and excitement, the same desire for more and all the cheesy romances Sonny hasn’t experienced in so long. Rafael just looks tired however, resting his head against the cool glass of the window and watching city lights flicker past.

“That’s my building,” he says eventually, reaching for his seatbelt once Sonny pulls over to let him out.

“Can I walk you up?”

For a second just short enough for Sonny to ignore, he hesitates before agreeing. The smile he offers is tentative and shy, nothing like the bold personality Sonny’s come to expect from Rafael. Everyone gets nervous on dates, he supposes, and as the evening winds down, adrenaline could be wearing off. He just hopes he didn’t do something wrong. After all, he doesn’t think he’s taken someone on a date since what, high school? Maybe he crossed some boundary he forgot exists.

He doesn’t voice any of his concerns, though, and instead walks up to the front door of the apartment building and stops with him at the doorstep. Before he can say anything, Rafael grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him down for a chaste kiss. The surprised sound he makes before relaxing into it is anything but dignified. Rafael doesn’t seem to notice, even pressing them closer together when Sonny’s hands settle on his waist. 

Just as suddenly as it started, it’s over. With a mumbled goodbye, Rafael lets go of him and runs into the building. Sonny can’t keep a grin off his face as he gets back in his car and goes home.

He’s tired, he realizes, from a long day of work and a potent mix of anticipation and anxiety. Sleep comes easy when his head hits the pillow, keeps him peaceful and content until his alarm goes off the next morning.

The first thing he does when he wakes up is text Rafael good morning; since they exchanged numbers, they’ve been talking nonstop as long as they’re both awake. He’s known Rafael for what, three days, and it already feels like so much longer. Maybe that’s the part of himself that’s always just wanted to be loved, but he thinks that they might work well together. 

He gets up, gets dressed, and heads out the door to get started on this morning’s treats. Time flies, the sweetstop so busy all day he almost doesn’t notice the complete absence of communication from Rafael until Olivia and Amanda come by shortly before closing. They’re laughing and talking about something that happened in Amanda’s studio earlier in the day. Sonny wipes his floured hands on the front of his apron as he approaches them. For some reason, they get quiet at the front counter.

“Have you heard from Rafael today?” Olivia asks.

For some reason her question ties his stomach in knots. “No,” he says, “we haven’t talked since our date last night, why?”

“He was in a really bad mood at work. Caught him drinking on his lunch hour.”

Ice twists deep inside his chest. Amanda notices the sudden change in his demeanor, giving him a look that promises conversation later, and walks over to the cooler for a cream soda. He had to have messed up somehow. 

Everything else that’s said until Olivia leaves is little more than noise buzzing against his ears while he worries about what went wrong. Rafael is the one who kissed him, but maybe he felt obligated? Obligated to go on the date, obligated to kiss him. It didn’t feel that way at the time; in fact, it felt sweet and romantic and everything Sonny dreamed about when he first thought of dates as a voice-cracking teenager.

It’s hard to figure out what he could’ve done, which is why he remains distracted until Amanda walks Olivia out, flips the sign to closed for Sonny, and comes back to take a seat on the counter.

“So, tell me about the date last night.”

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and says, “I thought it went pretty well. We had dinner, and talked for a while, and afterwards I drove him home and he- he kissed me in front of his building. Then he ran inside and we haven’t spoken since. I don’t know what I did wrong, or if I said something-”

“Do you remember when you first realized you weren’t straight?”

He does. When it all made sense for the first time, and he realized he was bi, he had locked himself in the room of Nonna’s house where he stayed more than home, and cried for hours. Back then, he was still a strict Catholic, like Nonna, and it didn’t take longer than a few seconds for the self-hatred to set in;it was hard to come to love that part of himself, greatly helped by Nonna’s acceptance, love, and promises that she would always love him. In fact, she had told him once about an ex-girlfriend she had loved almost as much as she loved her late husband. But Sonny remembers the panic, the fear, the way people looked at him when they realized he likes men.

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember the first time you kissed a man?”

Of course he does. His first boyfriend, a boy in his pre-calc class with curly hair and dimples. They kissed behind the bleachers and then Sonny had promptly run into the school bathrooms and cried for a long time. It had been hard, no matter how much he thought he had come to terms with his sexuality.

Now he realizes what Amanda is getting at. It must show on his face if her expression is anything to go by. It’s possible it wasn’t something Sonny did, but rather a result of Rafael’s own fears. Not everyone has the liberty of knowing who they are and getting the chance to have their firsts when they’re still young. While it’s not a guarantee, it makes Sonny feel a little better to have the knowledge he may not have fucked this up. He really doesn’t want to have ruined something as good as this.

“I’m sure he’ll come around, Sonny,” Amanda says. She sips some of her soda and pushes her hair out of her face. “Just give him some time.’

Instead of asking how much, Sonny nods and pretends to be completely soothed.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is @space-carisi
> 
> Comments are what keep me going!


End file.
